Fred
by RonGranger
Summary: And so, with all the emotion I’ve held inside for so long threatening to come unleashed, I said something that told him everything.


I'm not sure what possessed me to walk into that store that particular day. It could have been anything, really. It could have been the flashing lights that chased their way around the outside of the front window or the bell that chimed each time a passerby and potential customer walked through the front door. It may have even been the display of fake wands that were situated in the front window in a way that would have made even Professor McGonagall herself turn around for a second glance.

But, in all actuality, it was probably the fact that I knew a certain red-headed twin was somewhere inside. And the thought of seeing him after all these months was just too overwhelming for me to pass up. So I let my feet take the lead and followed them into the shop, right up to the counter where a familiar face beamed back at me.

"Angelina, what a surprise."

I pulled my hood down off of my head and reached across the counter to give him some sort of a hug. "It's great to see you George."

"And it's wonderful to see you. How's life been treating you?" He rang up a customer buying a package of canary creams and two fake wands while he waited patiently for my answer.

My lips formed themselves into a small smile before I offered up the truth. "Life's been treating me fine, but sometimes I don't think I treat it the same way."

He placed a sign on the counter that read _Be Back in Five_ and walked around the counter to join me. "You too, eh?" He snaked his left hand around my back and led me to a door near the back of the store.

"What do you mean, me too?"

He grinned at this point and positioned himself so that we were now face to face. "What? You don't think my dear brother has been as down in the dumps as you have lately?" I shrugged. Sure, I knew Fred had to be upset over the breakup as well, but surely he couldn't have been worse than me. He's a guy, for Christ's sake, and he has a business to run and an amazing family that would have been worried to death about him. Seeming to read the rapid thoughts running through my head, George continued, "We've been worried sick about him. I didn't know that you'd ever come back."

"Oh, but George, I didn't --"

He cut me off and gave me a shove towards the door we were standing by. "Go upstairs. He'll be thrilled to see you."

Suddenly I wished I hadn't come into the store at all. I didn't want to see Fred. I didn't want to talk to Fred. I didn't want to have any contact with Fred at all.

I looked to George for some sort of response to my silent pleas, but he had already made his way back to the front counter and was ringing up yet another customer.

My eyes traveled to the door in front of me. Maybe I could do this after all. I mean, I knew Fred worked here. It could have very well been him at the front counter instead of George. What would I have done then?

Well, duh. Run.

Oh God, what mess have I gotten myself into?

I pushed the wooden door open without any problem and found myself climbing a steep staircase. The stairs seemed like they were beginning to spiral, but all of a sudden they came to a halt and a flat plateau led to another door.

I had no idea what I was going to find behind that door. But I knew I'd have to face it sooner or later. I debated whether or not to knock, but I figured I'd just go ahead and open. George has said to go right up. Didn't he?

That door pushed open quite easily as well and instead of finding myself in a staircase, I found myself looking at what was unmistakably the living room of a flat. There was fireplace on one side, currently without a roaring fire inside, and on the other side there was a sofa and a coffee table, both of which looked like they had been around for a while.

At first glance, it seemed like there was no sign of life anywhere in the place. Until I heard an intake of breath coming from a room whose door was just on the other side of the sofa. My own breath hitched in my throat.

It took a total of seven seconds before my breathing returned to normal and I realized what was occupying the adjoining room. Five years ago I would have called it the man of my dreams. Right now, the closest thing it was to a dream was my worst nightmare.

Knowing that I would either have to get moving soon or be caught standing in the living room of a flat that belonged to my ex-boyfriend looking like an idiot, by my ex-boyfriend, I decided I should get a move on.

The steps I took were careful and quiet. And by the way my breath caught in my throat _again_ at the sight I saw before me when I reached my destination, I couldn't decide if that was a good choice or a bad one.

The room was a kitchen-slash-dining room and at the breakfast bar which separated the two sat one Mr. Fred Weasley.

Oh, but not just any Mr. Fred Weasley. Oh, no, of course not. This Fred Weasley happened to be shirtless and in a pair of worn out jeans that hung so loosely on his slender hips, a navy blue waistband was peeking out the top. A scattering of red hairs were spread across his jaw and in between his long fingers hung a cigarette. It was obvious his hair had not been washed in the last couple of days. In fact, I wasn't sure if any of him had been washed in the last couple of days.

Okay, now speak Angelina.

"You never seemed like the type to smoke Weasley." Great, just like me to come out with a catty remark.

His eyes, which were previously staring at the stove repositioned themselves on me. Instead of saying something, he just stared.

He seemed calm from what I could tell and I started to hope that it was because the cigarette was having lingering effects. And from the way my breathing was not cooperating and the way my heart was hammering itself up my esophagus, I was starting to wish that I was the one holding the cigarette.

Moments passed in which neither of us said nothing. Just staring and smoking and more staring. And that annoying heart hammering in the neck.

"I really wish you would say something." Whoa, I said that? I didn't know I was capable of speaking at the moment.

He put his cigarette out and stood. I noticed the muscles in his stomach twitch as he did so, as if they hadn't been used in a while. I thought, and kind of hoped, that he was going to walk towards me, but he didn't. He just stood and stared.

"Really, Weasley."

Red eyelashes flashed over his green eyes before he finally spoke. In a husky, throaty voice, he said everything in three words. "I've missed you."

And me, being the spunky, always-on-top-of-things-got-to-have-it-my-way-or-no-way girl I've always been, I knew I had to say something that would top it, hands down.

I wanted to tell him everything I've been feeling the last four months, everything that's been bottled up inside with no way to escape. I wanted to let him know how hurt I've been, how heartbroken. I wanted to let him know that sometimes I wanted to rip his heart out and stomp on it. I wanted to tell him that I'd decided after all our years together, it's finally over.

And so, with all the emotion I've held inside for so long threatening to come unleashed, I said something that told him everything.

"Yeah, well. I love you."


End file.
